


O Blush Not So!

by klanstability (Shanimalx)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blushing, Developing Relationship, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Looks, Dirty Thoughts, Flustered Lance (Voltron), Inspired by Poetry, Klance Poetry Exchange 2018, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Purple Prose, Sighing, john keats is a dirty boy, keiths fuckin WHIPPED, so i hope this is purple enough for ya, this fics got it all, you said you liked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanimalx/pseuds/klanstability
Summary: The beauty of Lance's face is the one and only thing Keith knows for certain. And he’s gotlotsof evidence.---Written for refinedgluttony and based off of John Keats’s poem ‘O Blush Not So!’ as part of the Klance Poetry Exchange.





	O Blush Not So!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [refinedgluttony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/refinedgluttony/gifts).
  * Inspired by [O Blush Not So!](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/432449) by John Keats. 



> oh my god i have been waiting SO gd long to post this because my computer broke literally AS I WAS FINISHING THIS GODDAMN EXCHANGE and i was working on the neat graphic and everything... and i just couldnt post it without the graphic...... u no
> 
> anyways here it is, a month late. this was based off of John Keats's poem _O Blush Not So!_ , which essentially boils down to "just shut up and fuck me already" (john u naughty naughty boy) so that's the kind of energy i tried to channel. i hope yall like it.
> 
> thanks again to [wildlifepixie](http://wildlifepixie.tumblr.com/) and the beautiful people of the C4 discord server for your invaluable beta help ~

Lance has a beautiful face. This is the only thing Keith knows for sure.

Don't get him wrong, Keith also knows a lot of _other_ things about Lance--like how his pickup lines are useless and dumb, and that he’s a self-absorbed ass. But while Keith can _usually_ count on these things to be true, there are times when he finds himself reconsidering. Times such as when Lance says something that _sounds_ like a pickup line, but Keith's not really sure because it's directed at _him_ , and it actually kind of works. Or when Lance willingly walks away from the spotlight of a Voltron-just-saved-our-planet parade to kneel down in front of a child on the side of the road to smile softly and tuck a flower into their hair.

Yes, Lance is certainly a puzzle, one that Keith is still trying to put together. So, at this point in his life, the beauty of Lance's face is the one and only thing he knows for certain. And he’s got _lots_ of evidence.

* * *

Strasta-PXJ.

The aliens that inhabit this planet are all tall, elegant, vaguely-humanoid beings with hair that flows delicately behind them like they're all models standing in a perpetually-blowing fan. They glow a little too, a vestigial trait from a time when their planet’s atmosphere was thick enough to obscure the sun almost completely. Now, it shines high in a cloudless sky like a spotlight glinting off of the buildings around them.

It’s all very ethereal, and Keith imagines that this is what heaven might look like. Of course, as soon as they land, Lance can't resist commenting on how it’d be the perfect place for a date.

And Keith can’t help but agree when their guide leads them through the capital city gardens, which by all accounts is the most beautifully romantic place Keith has ever been. He doesn’t even mean it in an overrated rom-com movie type of way; it’s all _very_ tastefully put together.

Each flowerbed that they are led past is equally as fragrant and vibrant as the last, and yet entirely unique. Their scents linger in the air and are delightfully subtle, accompanying each bed like a swelling orchestra might accompany a first kiss. The enormous hedges that line either side of the garden are so carefully manicured, not even the gardener that’s currently pruning them looks out of place, and the deep purple petals that litter their path makes Keith feel like he's walking down the aisle to be married. Everything is so gorgeously and meticulously designed and maintained, it looks almost effortless.

They’re led beneath a row of trellises overflowing with curling vines, and Keith can only imagine how strongly the golden sunlight that filters through them must be tickling Lance’s romantic nature. He watches him carefully out of the corner of his eye as they walk beside each other, waiting expectantly for the inevitable to happen. It's only a matter of time before they meet the equivalent of the capital's mayor, who is no doubt the most elegant and ethereal alien they've met so far.

Luckily, the Strasta are a nonviolent race. When Lance is the first to rush forward and greet them by grabbing their hand and bringing it to his lips, they don't take it as a declaration of war, like has happened in the past (on _multiple_ occasions, but does Lance ever learn?). They stand stiffly with their hand limp in Lance's grip, blinking curiously down at him.

"Is this a human custom?" they ask, turning to the rest of the team.

Allura is the one who answers. "Of sorts," she says as delicately as she can. She’s smiling, but Keith can see it’s strained, the kind of smile that she reserves for either stubborn diplomats, or the mice when they decide to play tag in the middle of the breakfast table.

The mayor turns back to Lance. "What does it mean?"

"It means I think you're out of this world. And I would know, I'm from Earth." Lance flashes a toothy smile, and Keith hears Pidge groan quietly beside him. Not his best line, but it’s one of his favorites.

"’Out of this…’ Oh!" The alien blinks back in surprise. They lean in close to Lance and lower their voice, as if embarrassed by their ignorance of Earth culture, but everyone else can still hear it anyway. "Is this a _courting_ ritual?"

" _Of sorts_ ," Allura answers again, her smile straining even further. Her glare is burning a hole in the back of Lance’s head, but he’s too preoccupied to pick up on her tone.

"And... what is the proper response?” the alien asks, “Shall I repeat the gesture?" They hold out their hand, and a smile curls onto Lance's face.

He takes it, and his eyebrows settle into that one position that never fails to make Keith roll his eyes. "Only if you want to," he says in that sultry voice that means he’s definitely trying too hard.

"Oh," they say. Then a smile spreads across their face as well. "Okay." Their whole being lights up a little brighter as they press a kiss to the back of Lance’s hand, then bend down to whisper in his ear.

Keith can see Lance smiling pleasantly over the alien’s shoulder as they speak to him, but the longer they stay bent, the more his smile drops. As it falls, a deep flush rises in its place that disappears down his neck and underneath his armor. It’s the first time Keith’s seen him react like this, and it's _magnificent_. Ticks all the right boxes on Keith's “this is what makes Lance beautiful” list.

The alien finally leans back, and Lance gives a quiet, "R-really?" his voice manages to crack on the single word, and it looks like he's trying to swallow a baseball. The mayor lets out a series of twinkling trills, and their luminescence flickers in kind.

Inexplicably, Lance's eyes flick over to Keith.

Almost instantly, Keith can physically feel the heat in Lance’s gaze. It boils up his spine, violent and painstakingly slow.

The blush has reached the tips of Lance's ears now, and even from where he’s standing, Keith can see that the smooth navy of his irises has been eclipsed with a hot, deep darkness. It matches his blush beautifully.

Their party is on the move again, and Lance’s gaze has long since left him, but Keith can still feel the burn. He relishes the feeling. Lets the embers in the pit of his stomach smolder just a little longer.

What Keith wouldn’t give for Lance to give him a look like that again. He wants to strip back Lance’s armor and see just how far down his blush can go. He wants to see his rosy chest shiver and heave beneath his hands. Lance's blush is such a delicious shade of pink layered on smooth tawny, and Keith has a sudden need to know how it looks on top of his mahogany bed sheets. He’s sure it’ll look magnificent, _really_ bring the room together.

Lance doesn’t make direct eye contact with anyone for the remainder of their stay. It makes it easier for Keith to get ahold of his heartbeat.

* * *

Deneva.

It serves as a diplomatic gathering place in the Trubiddeon galaxy. Kind of like the town hall of the local star cluster. It's constantly bustling with diplomats and monarchs and emperors that are just all too easy to make fun of.

So while Allura is off trying to convince the Aerl of Redmaine to agree to finance the construction of a recreation area, so that the Grand Archcleric of Choonus will be amenable to run for the High Council, so that they can vote in favor of waking the King from his Eternal Slumber, so that they can ask him if he’ll allow their planet (that he hasn’t been awake to actually rule for over a hundred deca-phoebs) to join the Voltron Coalition, Keith and Lance are sitting idly atop a wall outside the main conference building and peoplewatch. Or… alienwatch.

Lance is really good at it. His skills for picking aliens out from the crowd that are beyond weird looking blow any creativity Keith thought he had out of the water. He says it’s something he used to do with his niece and nephew to keep them entertained in the park while the mothers gabbed. Of course back on Earth, Uncle Lance was a lot more PG.

It has them in stitches now--definitely a better alternative to listening to Allura talk for hours on end to a bunch of twitchy bug-alien-dudes in a language that sounds like whale calls.

Lance points to their left at a plump alien wearing a large green poncho that covers exactly nothing. “Hey, what about that one,” he says, elbowing Keith in the side.

Keith leans closer to see where he’s pointing. His skin tingles where they touch at the shoulders.

“The fat, wrinkly one?”

Lance’s face breaks out into a thousand-watt smile. “Uh huh.”

Keith tries his best to smother the involuntary grin that starts to break free in response before shaking his head in a decisive ‘no’. “I don’t see it.”

“Come on,” Lance says, poking Keith’s side again, “The big, saggy belly, the tan, wrinkly skin…” Lance cups one of his hands and holds it out in front of them. “Come on! How do you not see it?” He gently wiggles his fingers.

“But that’s not--oh my god, _Lance_ .” Keith sighs embarrassingly loud once he realizes what Lance is getting at. Not the package this time, but the… _undercarriage_ . “Oh my _gooood_ ,” he groans even louder, swatting Lance’s hand out of the air when he starts to giggle and wiggle his fingers even faster.

But Lance’s giggles are contagious (another contender for the List of Things Keith Knows for Certain), and as his smile begins to break through full force _with teeth_ , his own laughter bubbles up and erupts out of him like a volcano. It’s fiery and explosive, and entirely too loud for their current environment, but Keith can’t bring himself to care.

Especially when he looks Lance right in the eyes (those eyes, oh my god those eyes) and says, “Ballsack bureaucrat.”

Lance laughs so hard he has to close his eyes, and Keith laughs so hard he has to grip Lance’s shoulder and lean into him for support, he just _has_ to. And boy does he swoon when Lance grips him right back. It feels good-- _really good_. Under Lance’s touch, he can hardly breathe. The warm buzzing in his heart increases tenfold and squeezes his joy out of him like a tube of toothpaste. It’s the key on the back of a wind-up toy, a tightly coiled spring finally let go. Everything inside him becomes unravelled, and it’s all Lance’s doing.

When Keith’s laughter finally dies down enough that he can properly wipe away the tears staining his vision, the first thing he sees is the flush on Lance’s face. He knows it’s because they’ve been laughing for what must be hours, days, years, but it just looks _so right_ on him. It’s a unique pink all on its own, one that lights up his face. It brings out his eyes too, when he stops laughing so hard long enough to open them.

He glows with a warmth unlike any other, and Keith wants to scooch closer so that their legs are touching all the way down to feel it. He wants to squish Lance’s rosy cheeks between his hands to feel it. Then, he wants to pull him close and kiss his forehead and his nose and his lips and _feel_ it.

Lance lets out a low, drawn-out sigh, one that relaxes his face into a much softer but no less genuine smile. It relaxes Keith’s heart, too, which settles into an increasingly familiar nook in his chest reserved for exactly these moments. These moments when Keith can’t help but want to drag Lance away into the nearest bedroom or closet or _something,_ just so that he can have it all to himself.

So he can have _Lance_ all to himself.

* * *

The Castle of Lions.

It feels like winning the olympics when he finally gets Lance into his bed.

Well, _onto_ his bed.

It’s a little bit like a cliche romance movie the way they stumble blindly into the room and collapse onto the mattress. Not that Keith really cares or even _notices_. He’s a little too wrapped up in single handedly sucking all the air out of Lance’s lungs and tearing up the skin of his neck with his teeth. Not literally, of course, but Keith’s trying his hardest to do something like that, and from the sound of those soft sighs, he’s pretty sure Lance really likes it.

Lance falls backwards when the edge of the bed hits his knees, and even though he’s already breathless, he hits the bed with an “oof” that knocks the rest of his breath out of him and into Keith’s face. It’s warm and smells like he tastes. Keith can hardly believe how lucky he is.

He remembers the first time they did this like it was yesterday, and with the way they still giggle and squirm like children kissing beneath the slide on the playground, it may as well be. He’s waited for this for so long, and now that they've finally bitten the bullet, he gets to do this whenever he wants. He gets to ravage Lance and bask in his beauty and nuzzle his nose into the crook of his neck where his head fits perfectly and Lance’s smell is sweetest. Taste the forbidden fruit.

Well, _almost_ whenever he wants. Social norms do still exist whether or not you and your crush have made it official, especially when you’re stuck on a spaceship with five other people who all protest vehemently to your public displays of affection. Unfortunately. Regardless, the important thing is that if Keith could have his way, he’d be doing this all the time.

And that’s a very, _very_ pleasant thought. One that plagues his mind all day and haunts his dreams all night in the best kind of way.

When Lance’s hands move from Keith's face to glide down his sides and brush at the strip of skin just above the waistband of his pants, Keith can’t go another minute without saying so. Lance _has_ to know.

“You’re wonderful,” he mutters softly against Lance's lips.

Lance inches his hand up under the hem of Keith’s shirt and hums, the vibrations sending his pulse into a frenzy. He presses it flat against the small of Keith’s back, and it's like there'd been a button there that opened an airlock and shot Keith’s heart out into space. The combination of sensations only widens the floodgates.

“And radiant, and charming, and beautiful,” he continues, pecking down Lance’s jaw to his neck with every word. He nuzzles his nose into that sensitive spot behind Lance’s ear and mouths at his collarbone. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he says, his voice low.

Lance chuckles deviously. “I think I do.” He digs his fingers beneath the waistband of Keith’s pants and pushes their hips together. Keith sighs needily into his neck.

“Whenever you walk into a room, all I wanna do drag is you back out again and kiss the smirk right off your face,” he mumbles into Lance's shoulder, “Doing drills, sitting across the table, even walking up the ramp to your lion. Sometimes I think you do it just to tease me.”

Lance sighs loudly and Keith removes himself from where he was sucking on his neck. “What?”

Lance smiles sweetly up at him and moves his hands to cup Keith’s face. He’s gentle, as if he were cradling a baby bird. He brushes Keith’s bangs up out of his eyes and answers, “Nothing.” He sighs again, softer this time, almost wistfully. “This is nice.”

It’s Keith’s turn to hum.

“I wish we could have started sooner, though.” Keith buries a laugh in Lance’s chest. “What, you don’t agree?”

“No, Lance,” Keith says with a smile, nosing at Lance’s cheek, “Who cares about the past, we've got the rest of our lives to do this. Now stop talking and put your hands up my shirt again.”

Lance looks up at Keith and smiles wide, baring his teeth in a blinding grin, and moves his hands back down to slither under Keith’s shirt and up his spine. Keith shivers.

Lance winds his arms around him like a vice as he slowly grinds his hips up and presses his lips to Keith's ear. In a low, breathy voice, he asks, “Anything else I can do for you today?”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://klanstability.tumblr.com).


End file.
